


Happy Trails

by MorbidOptimist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, F/F, Horseback Riding, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27497425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidOptimist/pseuds/MorbidOptimist
Summary: After getting terribly lost in the deep dark woods, you find a pale horse and her rider; enchanted, she takes you home and you two have a friendly discussion about wizards.
Relationships: Rose Lalonde/Reader
Kudos: 15





	Happy Trails

**Author's Note:**

> For Anon

The brambles were scratchy, the rain had me _soaked_ , the bugs were maddening, and every tree branch jutted _just so_ , as if they all had up and collectively decided to make a nuisance of themselves for the sole purpose of frustrating me for the hell of it. 

I had to hand it to them, it was nearly working. 

Only pure, desperate optimism, fueled me. 

Well, that and fear. 

It was probably really silly, how much the noises in the woods had me on edge. 

Like; no one tells you what a squirrel sounds like scurrying through shit when you can’t actually _see_ them, and apparently my dumb lizard brain was overripe with genetic traumas of my forbearers cause every time I heard so much a _grassblade_ rustle, my thoughts turned to bears and coyotes even though every ‘weird’ noise I heard was probably just small rodents and little birds. 

I’d almost wished someone had warned me, you know, before I’d merrily walked myself into this mess.

_‘Go on a walk’,_ I said. 

_‘It’ll be fun to get out of the house’,_ I said. 

_‘I love nature!’_ I said. 

Oh, to be that innocent and naive again. 

I checked my phone again. 

Still no signal. 

_Damnit_. 

I slid my phone back into my pocket before the rain could douse it completely useless.

Not high enough then, I guessed. 

With the sort of determination that only those lost in the woods can muster, I started picking through the underbrush again despite the best efforts of the surrounding foliation, fighting back curses and frustrated tears with every step. 

It was getting darker out, too. 

The trees were packed too tight to let as much light in as I’d’ve liked and the rain certainly didn’t help. 

I tried not to panic myself by thinking of all the horrible things that happened to people alone in the woods at night. 

Of course, telling myself _not_ to think of bears and serial killers chasing me only made me think about them more and I felt my heartbeat start to speed up. 

It was so cold out my hands were shaking, trying to push the branches out of my face. 

Just from the cold, yeah; not from anxiety or anything. 

Certainly not the anxiety. 

I tried to keep moving, figuring that if nothing else, being a moving target would work out better for me than being a stationary one. 

The ground was muddy; it squelched beneath my sneakers and kicked up the backs of my shins. 

My blood froze the instant strange grumbling echoed through the distance. 

“Hello?” 

I didn’t know why I called out, it wasn’t like the bear-wolf-slasher monster was going to answer back. 

_Would running alert monsters to my presence?_

I couldn’t be sure.

I continued to creep through the woods, as quietly I could manage. 

My heart had just started to calm down when I heard it another noise; louder. 

Different. 

_What the fuck is that?_

I tried to fight off my deathly panic, but I couldn’t move. 

A crushing, crashing sound rustled through the trees. 

It was getting louder. 

My knees locked into place, shaking. 

My hands wouldn’t respond; I couldn’t uncurl them. 

My breath came in pants, threading out vaporously from my mouth.

_-This is it._

My body braced itself as the noise continued mere arms lengths away; I’d nearly closed my eyes to await the cold embrace of death, but a morbid curiosity overcame me enough to see what it was that was going to do me in. 

A strange white muzzle slipped through the leaves; it took my poor rattled brain a moment to process what the creature was. 

The small horse looked friendly, at least. 

“I feel that now would be the assumed time to quip a witty inquiry,” a soft, feminine voice lilted; “Maybe something like ‘come here often?’ but, as I’ve lived here since my presumable infancy without so much as _once_ seeing anything in the way of neighborly adventurous, friendly or otherwise, that I feel it safe to say this your first time tramping around my mother’s ill-kempt front yard and perhaps more importantly, that you probably shouldn’t be doing that.” 

My brain started to work again halfway through the girl’s speech; it still took a few tries to unlock my jaw and push words through my throat. 

“Hello?”

The girl tilted her head a bit; it seemed like she had a nice face, under her hood. 

_Black lipstick,_ was my first discernible observation _._

“Ah yes, forgive me my deplorable manners,” the girl asked, sounding... amused? 

It was hard to tell-

“Greetings, Traveler. These woods and its surrounding lands are property of house Lalonde which is, conveniently, just on the other side of the mountain from here.”

The girl seemed to tire of her impression, or had else grown bored of me; the horse certainly had, as it pawed the ground and twitched its muscles. 

“A chance encounter with a beautiful cloaked girl on a beautiful white steed,” I murmured; “The rain has clearly gone to my head.” 

“Yes, rain induced hallucination would be quite the malady,” the girl agreed, her voice sounding amused again; “I must admit, this encounter is quite anomalous for me as well. What exactly, brings you out here in the middle of a rain storm, no less?” 

“Well it wasn’t raining when I started,” I protested. 

“I’m sure,” the girl mused. 

“I uh, well. I was on the nature trail,” I explained, the mornings events flooding me with a sense of calmer, more sensible times; “I was just enjoying how like. Calm and pretty everything looked until I realized I wasn’t on the trail anymore and I tried to go back but everything looked the same. Next thing I knew it was raining. I was trying to get to higher ground, just now. Maybe find some phone signal.” 

The girl frowned. 

“I’m guessing that ‘nature trail’ wasn’t _actually_ a trail, was it?”

The girl shook her head, sending rivlets of water across her lap.

“I’m afraid not. -There’s a few paths through here, but all of them are for things like. Walking my horse. Or getting the mail.” 

“You walk your horse?”

“...Yes,” she replied at length, her tone flat reserved; “My apologies for assuming you possessed functioning capabilities of sight. -The sound of my voice emanating from on high must seem quite daunting, without context. I am a girl, and, I am on a horse. Walking it.” 

“I can see!” I insisted; the horse perked up from its grazing attempts; I immediately quieted my tone, for fear of making it bolt. 

“I just, pictured you walking it like a dog, was all,” I explained quietly.

“That happens more often than you might expect,” she admitted, piquing my curiosity. 

“Well,” the girl then exclaimed, making me jump a little; “I regretfully, must inform you that you won’t get any service around here. Our satellite connection is spotty at the best of times, and even then it only works in certain parts of the house.”

The girl sounded remorseful; one of her hands lifted from the saddle to scratch absently at the horse’s mane. 

“My name is Rose,” the girl properly introduced, “And this ‘beautiful steed’, was my consolation prize for adding yet another benchmark of longevity to my belt. Her name is Maplehoof.” 

The horse looked a little less magical, now that she wasn’t shell shocked; but it still seemed elegant, if a little impatient at standing around. 

“Can I pet her?” 

“Sure,” Rose replied, shifting her weight, “-If you aren’t particularly attached to your extremities. She will take your fingers off, if you go for her nose. Or her ears. Or anywhere near her eyes.”

“So no pets,” I summized, feeling a little downed by the news; it was a shame, that such a pettable looking animal apparently did not like to be touched.

“Oh you can pet her, just not on the face,” Rose corrected; I felt my spirits lift a bit, and I had to fight my mouth from making any weird faces. 

I’d heard once, that horses spooked pretty easy, so I tried to move slowly.

Maplehoof’s neck felt so warm and smooth, -but hairy, almost. 

It wasn’t quite like fur; not like any dog or cat I’d ever pet anyway. 

It was a little intimidating, how big the horse’s face was. 

As she breathed and moved it around to look at me, I backed up pretty quick.

“I’d say you needn’t be skittish, bit suppose I did just finish explaining how your mortal form could be rent asunder,” Rose remarked, “Either way, I don’t really fancy spending more time out in this storm, now that I’ve discovered the source of all the racket in the woods. -You’d be terribly easy to stalk, by the way.” 

I chuckled, feeling awkward; I hadn’t needed a stranger to confirm what I’d already been afraid of. 

“So, what do you say?”

Surprised, I wiped some of the rain water from my face, to keep my vision from blurring under the water. 

“-Are you coming back with me, or do I have to get a ranger service involved?” 

“Back?”

“To my house, yes,” Rose insisted, her horse stamping impatiently; “I can’t very well leave you here to succumb to the elements. I’ll have lost all plausible deniability.”

“That’s… a comforting salespitch,” I guessed. 

My gut was churning with relief, excitement, and exhaustion. 

And hunger. 

“Yeah, that’d be really nice actually,” I added. 

“Glad you agree,” Rose replied, doing something with reigns; the horse turned, its side facing me. 

“Get on.”

“What?”

“It’s simple. I’ll help you,” Rose offered, leaning over; “Left foot, then climb.”

“Can she carry us both? Won’t she get tired?” 

“She could do with the workout,” Rose insisted; “Besides, you’ll never make it there on foot.” 

Hesitantly, I looked the girl and her horse over. 

“Come on,” the girl prompted, urging me again. 

I took in a deep breath. 

She caught my foot in her hand as I threw my arms over the saddle; the horse moved some as the girl pulled me up. 

It wasn’t pretty, and I certainly didn’t feel elegant, but I was on. 

“See?” Rose quipped, “Wasn’t that hard.”

The girl was at my back; the feeling of another rain-slicked person pressing against my already cold body made me shiver. 

I was so _totally_ catching a cold from all this.

I was about to ask her if she could still navigate with me in the way, when she leaned forward, her breath at my neck. 

“You'll want to hunch down, if you don't want your face cut up. I’ll try to keep the worst of them off us.”

I leaned over, bracing myself on the back of the horse’s neck; all I could think about, was how strange and surreal everything felt. 

Then everything felt a little more painful; Rose hadn’t been kidding about the threat of offensive foliage; every so often the girl hissed or clicked, and the horse would stop and take a different direction. 

I grit my teeth and tried not to feel how cold and wet and miserable everything still was, even a top the horse that felt both too big and too small for me to be on. 

After a couple of minutes we’d apparently reached a path, the underbrush absent in a long, thin line. 

There were a few low hanging branches, but, it was easy enough to hunch over whenever Rose warned me to ‘duck’.

The way the horse moved formed a fluidic rhythm, and the pattern felt weird at my hips.

The horse’s pace seemed steady, though the movements had started to pain my legs; I’d never once ridden a horse, but feeling the way my muscles ached, I felt I understood _implicitly_ the meaning of the words ‘saddle sore’.

“It’s not too long now,” Rose assured me, the reigns held one of her hands in front of me, and her other, resting on my hip. 

My own hands were wrapped in the horse’s mane; I didn’t know what else to grab, and the thought of _not_ holding something frightened me too much to try.

When the house finally came into view, I was both relieved, amazed, and surprised.

What with the horse and all; ‘modern luxury’ hadn’t been what I’d pictured the girl’s home to be.

She must’ve felt me stiffen, as Rose’s breath came hot on my neck once more. 

“My mother designed this place to be a modern contemporary showpiece,” the girl explained, “She failed miserably at the ‘minimalist hellscape’ part of interior decoration however, as you’ll soon see.” 

I didn’t really know how to respond to that, so I kept quiet as I watched the house grow larger and larger the closer we came near.

It felt like we were encroaching on some hidden-away resort, for some rich celebrity, or maybe as if I’d somehow been roped into a movie; not that I'd have cast myself as any sort of protagonist.

Rose I felt, probably would’ve made the more interesting lead, what with the mysteriousness lent by her hood and the fact that she had a _horse_ in the woods.

_I suppose that makes me the damsel-in-distress love interest,_ I mused. 

I nearly chuckled, but I quickly choked it out; I didn’t want to make things awkward for trying to explain my sudden thought. 

“We’ll drop Maple off over in the stable before heading up,” Rose declared; “I think we all could do with a toweling off, at the very least.” 

As she steered us over to the building, we passed by a tiny mausoleum of some kind; it looked more at home with the surrounding words than the bulky white building did, but I didn’t think it smart to say something like that out loud. 

“Mom perhaps took old adages a little too literal, as she only put the stable in _after_ she got me the horse,” Rose narrated, as we came to the stable embedded in the side of the house. 

“Hold on, I’ll help you get off,” Rose offered, soothing some of my anxieties about getting down. 

“Thanks,” I replied as she slid off the horse’s back; it looked like she had as easy of a time of it as the rain slipping off it. 

“Just lean forward a little and toss your leg over, I’ll catch you,” Rose promised. 

I obeyed, finding it way easier to get down that it’d been to get on. 

I felt myself grin, despite of everything. 

Rose smiled as well, which I thought was nice. 

She grabbed a bit of the bridle by the horse’s face and walked over to the gate; not wanting to lose my only point of human contact, I followed close beside her, being sure to steer clear of any back hooves. 

When she opened the gate, the horse went in; inside, the stall looked as if it went back aways, into the darkness. 

She shut the behind them both, so I waited patiently outside and watched her take the horse’s equipment off. 

_Didn’t know that stuff came in pink,_ I mused. 

It was kinda amazing, how easily Rose was able to move around the beast and not get kicked or bit at or anything. 

“Guess you have a lotta’ practice with this sorta thing?” I asked, as she hung everything up. 

“We’ve had Maplehoof for... three years now,” Rose answered, flicking a switch on the wall. 

At once, a large square looking lamp in the ceiling turned on, its yellow coils quickly turning red. 

“You have a heat lamp for your horse?” 

“It’s a little gouache, I agree,” Rose replied, stepping around the horse; “But she freaked out whenever we turned on the blowdryer so, we had to uninstall that.” 

“I… hadn’t ever thought of what taking care of a horse would actually be like,” I confessed, as she slipped out of the gate in front of me. 

“Most people don’t,” she replied, locking the gate behind her.

I tried not to look envious of the horse’s personal heat lamp as I shifted on my feet, trying to keep my circulation going. 

“Let’s get you inside,” Rose said, after looking me over a minute.

I could only nod frantically in agreement. 

She led me to a door in the side of the house, some feet away from the stable.

_Something weird, entering a house not from the front door,_ I thought. 

I held my breath as I followed her in. 

We’d entered into a long narrowish hallway; the lighting was bright, but farther down the hall there was only darkness. 

On one side of the walls there was a picture of a wizard, but the rest of the hallway seemed oddly barren. 

I guess other than to get to the horse or that weird tomb-looking place, they might not’ve had a lot of reason to go through it much. 

I heard the door shut behind me; I turned to see Rose facing my direction, pulling off her yellow hood. 

The thick looking fabric fell limp onto the floor. 

“Weird raincoat, by-the-way,” I remarked. 

“It’s wool. Keeps the warmth in,” she replied, shrugging. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, next time I go gallivanting in the wilderness,” I replied. 

The girl looked me over, and admittedly, I spent the moment looking at her, too. 

White hair, cut short. An orange headband; black mascara smudged around her eyes.

Her eyes looked purple, which was weird and probably a trick of the light. 

She seemed pretty; like, really pretty. 

Suddenly, I found myself wondering what my host was making of me. 

The house thankfully, was warmer than it had been outside, but I’d yet to stop shivering. 

She brushed past me, and gestured for me to follow. 

The lights flicked on automatically, as we walked under them, and blinked back out a few seconds after we passed. 

“The only thing my mother is stingy about is the electric bill,” Rose explained, as we drew up to a staircase; beyond it, I spotted a few other doors before they slipped out of view.

“I apologize in advance for the mess,” Rose warned, “we don’t ever get visitors.”

“It’s cool,” I promised, steeling myself.

I was determined to make the best of this, seems how she rescued me and all. 

Stepping into what looked like the main room of the house though, shook a bit of my determination off. 

The place was massive, and it was as stark white on the inside as it had been on its exterior. 

_Oh god I’m going to drip mud everywhere,_ came a single, mortifying thought. 

“Welcome to our house, I guess,” Rose dismissed, waving a hand generally, “Before you ask, the wizards were my mom’s idea.” 

Now that she’d mentioned it, the abundance of the staff wielding bearded men was _staggering_.

Statues and fancy-framed paintings were cluttered about in every direction, though the decoration didn’t quite fill up the scale of emptiness the house held. 

“So like… is she really into Harry Potter or D&D?” I asked, as I tried to wrap my head around the _gargantuan_ sized wizard statue near the front of the room, towering into the levels above through the open spaces in the ceilings. 

“To paraphrase an infamous philosopher Louis Griffin: she just thinks they're neat.” 

“Wasn’t that Marge from the Simpsons?” 

“What?”

“Nevermind,” I mumbled; “But about those towels?” 

“Ah, of course,” Rose replied, “There’s a shower upstairs you can use,” she offered, a light tilt to her head; “I’m fairly confident I can run the laundry. -I’ll pull out some things you can borrow.”

“God, warm water sounds nice right now,” I drawled; now that all the excitement seemed to be over for the day, I just felt _exhausted_. 

“Right this way,” Rose led, walking us up another flight of stairs. 

The hallway it opened onto was small, and had a wing on one side; a single door stood like it was in isolation against the one stretch of wall. 

“It’s through my room,” Rose explained, as she walked us to the door; “It’s probably redundant to warn you about the clutter a second time, but the thought still stands.” 

Rose’s room was reasonably sized; larger than any of the bedrooms in our cul-de-sac but, _way_ smaller than I’d kinda expected a mansion’s bedroom to be. 

Then I remembered the space also sported a bathroom, and the layout felt a little more sensible. 

The bedroom portion seemed reasonably lived in, at least. 

Clothes scattered about, posters on the walls, shelves, books, -knitting stuff? 

-Eldritch monster stuff? 

_Guess it goes with the wizard stuff,_ I figured. 

I got the overall impression that my host was something of a goth girl, or else had such a phase, at some point. 

_Ah, Middleschool,_ I mused, _Let us never speak of thee again._

“Through that door there,” Rose gestured, to a small door; “The towels are in the cupboard as you walk in.”

“Thanks,” I replied, relief filling me at the thought; I quickly made my way inside before my nerves cooled my jets. 

I stripped off rather tentatively.

_'Grimey' doesn’t begin to cover it_ , I thought, catching sight of myself. 

With a little more apprehension, I turned my attention to the faucets. 

I shivered, naked, as I tried to find what manner of fiddling sprung the hot water forth. 

When at least it welled up, and steam filled the air, I was so fucking overjoyed I could have cried. 

I might actually have, when I’d finally stepped under the spray. 

There was stinging.

Lots of stinging. 

When the heat in the water coaxed sensation back into my skin I made the terrible discovery that somewhere along my journey, I’d gotten scratched up to pieces. 

It sucked; I grit my teeth as best I could and set to work wrestling leaves and mud from my hair. A couple tiny sticks fell loose, which was another uncomfortable sensation I didn’t like. 

I picked up a bottle of shampoo and clicked it open; it pooled a slimy green on my palm, but it smelled fruity-sweet and it foamed up as I lathered it into my scalp. 

The aroma was really nice, actually. 

I probably would’ve taken up singing, had I not been so sore all over. 

And soaping up with the little hand soaps quickly proved a daunting task.

-I didn’t really want to look, yet. 

So I kinda just slathered the soap suds on top and hissed whenever something stung.

I started getting anxious about spending too long with the hot water; I didn’t know if mansion owners had to worry about stuff like that but, it was first nature for me to be. 

So I got out and stepped onto the little pink fluffy floor mat, sitting astride the tile.

I looked my arms over, down my belly to my thighs and then to my calves; everywhere I looked I was bleeding tiny rivers from shallow cuts. -One of my knees was skinned, and there was a rather worrying puncture wound where I think one of those branches got me on the way up. 

_Fuck_. 

I didn’t want to bleed all over their house; _with my luck it’d probably stain all these white surfaces_ , I thought _._

The sink lacked a medicine cabinet; the mirror was quite flush to the wall. 

My next guess was to look under the sink, and the doors squealed as I tried to ply them open.

I leaned over to check inside and the pain shot through my face as I slipped. 

The gasp that tore through my throat weened into a stifled hiss while I picked myself off the floor. 

“Are you all right in there?” 

Rose sounded worried; I panicked. 

I struggled to my feet and raced to the tall, skinny, stand-alone closet filled with towel rolls. -I reached for a towel just as the knob started to jiggle; the door opened as I frantically wrapped myself decent. 

“Sorry-” I scrambled, making sure the towel was in place; “I slipped but I’m alright-” 

“You’re bleeding,” Rose noted. 

She’d changed, since I saw her; she was in fresh clothes and her hair looked nicely brushed. 

For some reason, it was a little uncanny that she was wearing mostly white, in this big white house. 

-Her handband was pink though, as was her skirt. 

She was really cute, actually.

Like, _majorly_ pretty, even. 

I clammed up instantly.

_-Ohmygodohmygodohmygod-_

The girl smirked, _smirked!_

She tried to hide it behind her slender fingers, turning her head a bit even; but her eyes glimmered. 

_-This is so fucking embarrassing oh my god she’s never gonna think I’m cool-_

“Forgive me,” Rose asked; I tried not to look indignant, though I could still feel my cheeks flushed over.

The girl lowered her hand while her expression turned a little more serious; “Your pout is adorable, by the way.”  
I tried to speak, but my voice squeaked in my chest.

“-At any rate, it looks like you could use a medic. -I humbly suggest you let me help,” she continued evenly, stepping into the bathroom with me; “I’ve been patched up enough myself to know a thing or two,” she explained, sliding a basket out of the towel shelving unit.

_-Fuck that’s right, I’m still bleeding on her floor-_

“Thanks,” I stuttered, unsure of what to do with myself as Rose set the basket on the sink.

I opted to follow my host’s lead again; she seemed to know what she was doing, which was more than I could say about myself. 

“Sit down and let me see the damage,” she instructed. 

Reluctantly, I obeyed; sitting on the toilet lid, one arm still clutching my towel closed. 

She reached for my arm.

I tried not to twitch as she grabbed it gently. 

“Some antiseptic would probably do you some good,” she decided; she pulled a plastic bottle from the basket filled with dark liquid. The label had a mass of scientific jargon that meant nothing to me. 

It looked official though, so I continued to sit patiently. 

“It’s cold,” I whined, when it hit my skin. 

Rose didn’t answer me; she just turned my arm this way and that, swabbing each spot she found with medically doused cotton. 

She seemed to be concentrating, so I decided not to interrupt. 

She switched to my other arm; it was kinda cute the way she bit her lower lip and the times the tip of her tongue peaked out, while she was thinking. 

“Where else?” she asked, flatly. 

Without any fuss, I went to move my towel only for Rose to stop me. 

“Try not to move, you’ll bleed more.” 

Obediently, I went back to being still as Rose moved the towel for me; she let it fall away and looked over my sides and then moved around to better see my back, blotting the antiseptic as she went.

When she was done she knelt by my legs; I started feeling a little lightheaded. 

I felt both terribly shy, and also terribly relieved; it was actually kinda nice to feel someone taking care of me?

It seemed embarrassing, so I tried to let my mind go blank. 

“The deeper cuts will need gauze, but most of them should be fine with bandaids, if you want,” Rose offered, standing up; she set the antiseptic and swabbs aside before wiping her hands a bit. 

I nodded; _prolly best to keep them covered what with my luck,_ I thought. 

“Pink or squiddles?” she asked, holding up two small boxes. 

“Squiddles?” I repeated, the name hitting me with a wave of nostalgia; “I haven’t seen that show in ages.” 

“It’s still running,” Rose replied, already peeling off the backs, “Most of the original writing team left in the third season and it didn’t really recover till a few seasons ago. I’d say it’s competition with Spongebob has sparked some life back into it, though most would argue their stalemate is running both franchises into the ground.” 

Rose punctuated her statements with applying the bandaids; they were cute enough, and quite colorful, even if I didn’t recognize many of the characters. 

“I used to collect some of the toys, when I was younger,” I offered; I didn’t tell her they’d probably gotten lost amongst the other masses of plush toys I’d hoarded and discarded into thrift stores through the years. 

“I have the entire first series originals,” she replied; “My mom was… enthusiastic, in her support of my interests.” 

I balked a little, unable to comprehend being that… _rich_. 

She must’ve caught sight of my face before I could adjust my expression because her smile disappeared into a sort of understanding grimace.

“Yes, I know, there is no such thing as an ethical elite,” the girl sighed, affixing bandaides to my arms; “as much as I call for the death of capitalism and the end of the one percent, my mother and I are aware we’re part of the problem. She has personal vendettas against Betty Crocker and Elon Musk, at least.” 

“I don’t really know a lot about politics or anything,” I waffled, feeling awkward on her behalf.

“You should,” Rose scolded as she unfastened the gauze; her face looked so stern and passionate, “We don’t need anymore conglomerates controlling class structures.” 

_She sounds so smart,_ I fawned; _she’s gonna think I’m a total dingus-_

As Rose wrapped the cut on my calf, her face looked a bit sheepish. 

“I spend a lot of my free time writing, so yes, I’m also quite aware that I often sound like I’ve held a steady diet of thesauruses since I was small,” she wavered. 

“You talk good,” I replied; instantly, I wanted to smack myself. 

_‘You talk good’? What am I,_ I thought bitterly, _Some kinda’ idiot?_

“Thanks,” she replied; she smiled again, sending a weird fluttering through my stomach. 

“Well, that should last you until tomorrow,” Rose finished, dumping her supplies back into the box. 

“Tomorrow?” I repeated, watching her as she carried the box back to its shelf. 

“Well you certainly won’t be getting anywhere in this weather,” she quipped; “My Mom will be back from work ‘round noon, she’ll be able to drive you when she gets back.”

I thought about the terrible time I’d had walking through those woods and admitted I felt more than reluctant to repeat the experience. 

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” I agreed.

“Cool,” Rose replied, turning to face me again; she looked me over, probably to make sure she’d fixed me up right or something, but my face turned red again. 

I held the towel back over my chest. 

“Your stuff should be washed by now,” she said; “But I stepped in before running them through the dryer. Here, a moment.”

She turned without any context, and walked back into her bedroom. 

I waited nervously until she re-entered, a bathrobe in her hand.

She held it out to me, smiling. 

I took it; it was super fluffy and soft on my skin.

I resisted the urge to snuggle my face into it as I put it on. 

“Thanks, again,” I replied, as I tied the sash around my waist. 

The top of the robe was a bit wide; my fingers couldn’t find any button or anything to tighten it up, but it reached my ankles so, I felt covered enough. 

Rose walked out of the bathroom, and I followed her; stepping into the space reminded me of sleepovers and little kid memories. 

“Now I suppose the next order of business is to quibble over sustenance,” Rose stated, plopping down on her bed; the mattress seemed pretty springy.

I sat on the corner, not really sure if it was cool to join her; the bed compressed under me, like it was some sort of foam. 

“I’m not really picky,” I replied; not wanting to be a bother. 

“I’m forbidden from using any of mom’s large appliances for reasons I shall not get into, but anything microwavable is fair game,” Rose offered; “I’ll take you to the kitchen. You can pick whatever.”

“Cool,” I replied, hopping to my feet. 

I followed her back down the stairs and through the giant living room; the kitchen was connected, and had a surprising amount of black. -Black appliances, black counters-

Pink hand towels, on the oven handle. 

“Mom’s a decent chef,” Rose said, shrugging; “She has to work most days of the week so she cooks a bunch of meals and freezes them for me. We also have plenty of leftovers still, if you want any of that. Snack food’s in that cabinet,” she gestured, pointing. 

Out of curiosity, I peeked into the fridge. 

_Huh._

There were tons of containers full of different things in tons of colors, and the smells coming from them all made my mouth _water_. 

“I assure you they look better on a plate than lumped in the tupperware,” Rose promised. 

I pictured Rose and her mom, sitting at the table with some of those fancy looking meals they had in movies; tiny bits of food all beautifully arranged on the plates, gold coatings and silver spoons. 

“Nice,” I replied, grabbing something at random. 

_Well, when in Rome,_ I thought, handing the containers to my host.

I watched her quietly as she set about unloading all the containers onto plates; I could hardly keep still as she popped them in to heat up. 

“Don’t forget your drink,” Rose added; “It’s mostly soda, hope that’s alright.” 

Her tone seemed a little sad, maybe embarrassed; the fridge full of Tabs seemed like, the _most_ ordinary part of Rose’s whole life, to me. 

“It’s cool,” I answered, hopefully soothing her worry away. 

I picked out the regular Tab, recalling the weird after-taste the diet flavors usually had. 

When the microwave beeped, she handed me a dark-metal looking fork and passed me my plate before ushering me into the living room. 

I set my plate on the coffeetable before getting comfortable on the couch; I figured Rose was taking a minute to chuck my clothes in the dryer or whatever, and looked around a bit more. 

The whole, ‘wizards’ thing, really was a bit odd. 

But odd in a fun way. 

Like a house who was obviously obsessed with those little lawn gnomes, but like, wizards instead. 

The tv was pretty sweet looking; the bookshelves on the side of the room were _impressively_ tall; and also pitch black. 

I started nibbling at my food. 

Spices and flavors filled my mouth and by the time Rose joined me, I’d nearly finished half my plate for gobbling it all down. 

Rose seemed pleased, and sat next to me; she flicked the tv on and we ate in silence for a bit, tuning into the last act of some Nicolas Cage movie I’d never seen.

“This flick has more cheese than macaroni,” I mused, watching the man reunite with his family. 

“True; one of my friend’s used to love this one,” Rose replied, like she wasn’t really paying attention. 

She pulled out a remote from nowhere and clicked through the channels, eventually settling on one of those ‘house fixer-upper’ shows. 

“I wonder what the threshold is for the number of additions it takes for a house to become an art project,” Rose asked around her fork. 

“Probably depends on how weird they look,” I answered, thinking to all the creative modes and base building I’d done in video games. 

Rose hummed, and we continued eating. 

I finished before Rose did; having scarfed most of it down before she’d arrived, but we watched a few more episodes before a commercial for the new Harry Potter theme park sparked my curiosity. 

“What house would you be,” I asked; the topic of wizards seeming like a safe bet.

“As per Rowling’s terrible decree, all us in the states have to be content with the culturally appropriative school of Ilvermorny,” Rose hissed, surprising me; I raised my brow in confused alarm. 

Rose scowled, and then sighed. 

“The series was a lot of fun for a lot of people, and it definitely took the world by storm,” Rose conceded; “But I think the series could have been better without all the racism.” 

“You mean the houself stuff?” I asked.

Rose sipped her drink; a lot of the black had worn off her lips. 

“That, and the Native tribes all have their own cultures, beliefs, and histories; all of which was so irreparably damaged by force and genocide that they can’t really recover from it. Our society steals their icons, wears mockeries of their images as costumes, and profits off stealing what remainders of their cultures they have left without ever giving them credit or attempting to respect or understand their meanings. Their cultures are highly guarded and sacred to them; Native spirituality and religions are not wizard fantasy. It’s colonization and entitlement.”

I clammed up, feeling a little shell-shocked. 

“I’ve actually been working on a better series, since I was kid,” Rose murmured; “Mom jumped on the wizard bandwagon after I first told her about it.”

She said it so quietly, I wasn’t quite sure I’d heard her.

“Yeah? How’s it going?” 

She bit her lip.

“I’ve written drafts for eleven books; there’d be thirteen in total, I think,” she answered, “It follows the story of thirteen wizards and a grand chess game of fate, essentially.”

“Wow, that’s crazy,” I quipped, before hastily clarifying, “-The fact that you’re that dedicated I mean. I don’t think I could ever write like. Eleven whole books.”

“Yes well, it was something to pass the time,” Rose waved, shrugging. 

“You’ll have to let me read them, sometime,” I offered, smiling awkwardly; “I can be your test audience for readers who don’t have good attention spans, or something.” 

She looked at me and for a moment I had an urge to grab my robe securely again. 

“There is something about my work you could help me with actually,” Rose replied, her mouth smirking a little.

“Yeah?” I answered, swallowing without saliva.

“Feel free to refuse of course, but, I’ve often been told on forums and by quoted authors that it’s important to ‘write what you know’. Which is of course, widely irrelevant to any sort of fantasy, but I do feel it’s one of those things where one must have a frame of reference, before one can distort or play off it.” 

As Rose spoke, she leaned closer to me; her hair shimmered slightly by the light of the television.

“Do you know what I mean?” she asked, clearly looking for an answer.

“Yeah,” I lied. 

She smiled, and leaned in closer. 

She slipped her hand onto mine.

“I realize we just met, and all. But as our meeting was an anomaly, I hope you wont fault me for wanting to make the most of it,” Rose continued. 

My heartbeat started going really erratic. 

It pounded in my ears, I half worried she could hear it. 

“It’s cool,” I stuttered; it was getting really difficult to breathe right. 

“Wonderful,” Rose replied, “I’d offer you a credit should my works ever be published but, my mother told me a lady must never kiss and tell.” 

_-Oh,_ I thought. 

It _was_ going where I thought this was going. 

I’d only ever kissed cheeks of friends’ and family, so when Rose leaned in and my eyes shut of their own accord, I wasn’t prepared for their flips my stomach started doing. 

Rose’s lips were so, _so_ soft. 

And warm. 

And wonderful. 

She pulled back and my eyes blinked open again. 

“Interesting,” she murmured, “I may need to make a few changes in my notes,” she said, as I struggled with this new, weird hunger that had come over me; “Would you mind if we tried a bit more? For science, of course?”

I nodded, eager to feel the tingling rush again. 

We kissed again, and then more.

Open mouths, wet tongues, weird deep breaths and little sounds like sighing hums.

She grabbed my robe in each hand, leaning closer; I put mine on her hips and tried to lean into our kiss. 

“Interesting,” Rose said again, in just light breath.

“Your thesaurus is slipping,” I quipped, kissing her again. 

She caught my tongue between her teeth, holding my hostage as revenge. 

I whined, and she thankfully chose to release it. 

I pulled her onto my lap, settling my hands around her thighs while she tugged my robe open. 

Her fingertips trailed down my chest and I made a sound I hadn’t known I was physically capable of making; she carried on, palms petting down to my belly and back over my breasts.

She seemed pleased with the way I twitched and moaned while she played with my nipples. 

It was hard to sit still, so I kissed her again; this time, I let my hands glide up her things and gently dug my fingers into her ass. 

She made some humming sounds herself, which made my heart flutter. 

I fell back against the cushions, Rose laying over me.

My hips tried to roll against hers and I ended up squirming uselessly more than anything. 

She looked down at me, and her face looked flushed. 

Slowly, she shifted her weight until her knee rested between my thighs. 

I had to bite my lip to keep from groaning and rutting myself into it.

Panting, I felt lightheaded.

“Do you want to take this to my bedroom?” she asked; she also sounded shaken. 

“Yes please.” 

I followed her up the stairs, the both of us scrambling towards her bedroom.

I didn’t know if she also felt half as anxious as I did, but she certainly seemed as equally excited. 

She kissed me as we stepped into her room; I’d just barely managed closing the door behind us as she pulled the robe to the floor. 

She darted away as I reached for her, and I opened my eyes to see her sitting on the edge of her bed, leaning back, her legs parted. 

I watched with an unwavering intense focus, as she slid off her shirt. 

The sight of her purple bra had me wanting to slide my hands inside; I walked over, and crawled my way onto her bed as she backed up to give me room. 

As my eyes fell closed there was another blur of kissing until Rose pushed me on my back again. 

She straddled me, and the strength in her thighs had my head swimming. 

_-Guess all that horse riding has its uses-_

She took her time working her fingers over me; exploring, petting, rubbing. 

Pinching, a few times. 

I felt weird, whenever I made noises about it but, she seemed to really like it when I did.

By the time she worked her way between my legs, I was shaking, mewling mess; I couldn’t even form words, just broken syllables. 

When her fingers worked into me something in me lit up, and I begged and cursed like my life depended on it. 

-I didn’t even care about the dull stings and aches from the bruises and scratches I still had; if anything it just made everything she was doing all the more important.

More intense. 

I came, completely unable to speak or utter sound; my whole body clenched up as I breathlessly felt a _wave_ wash over me.

My panting breaths returned as it hit the bottom of the arch, and it felt like I was twitching all over. 

Rose giggled and pulled her hand away.

It took a few moments, but I was able to speak again after a few tries.

“Will that help?” I asked, vaguely remembering her books. 

I moaned as Rose pressed her body weight onto me.

“I’m afraid I’ve a _lot_ more research to do,” she murmured huskily into my ear; “And we’ve got all night before the results come in.” 

~ 

I woke up slowly; I’ve never been the early-riser type so I’d been sleeping contently until a loud ‘bang’ downstairs booted my brain up. 

A sing-songy voice rang out; “Rose~y! I’m ho~me!” and lifted my head, both dazed and confused until my memories came flooding back. 

I looked to my left, where Rose was laying. 

She was already dressed, and gave me a smile. 

“Don’t worry, I brought your clothes up,” she whispered, gesturing to where they’d been folded on the nightstand; “Come down when you’re ready.” 

I mouthed my thanks and set about getting dressed as Rose was already out the door. 

I struggled to keep my cool; I’d never slept with a girl and I’d certainly never slept with a girl and then had to face her _mother_.

I was so nervous I nearly put my pants on backwards and it took me a few tries to get my belt on properly. 

When I finally finished, it felt like a minor accomplishment; I looked in Rose’s mirror and tried to smooth out my hair and look presentable. 

I couldn’t see any obvious hickies, so that at least, was something of a relief. 

As I headed down the stairs I heard snippets of the conversation Rose was having with her Mom, apparently explaining how she’d found me in the woods and that I needed a ride home.

I tried to put on my best smile as I came to the landing and stepped into the living room, where Rose and a taller woman with the same, white-blonde hair were talking. 

Rose’s Mom looked _hot_. 

I hadn’t ever thought labcoats could be sexy but, the woman looked like one of those Hollywood starlets straight from the thirties. 

And the pink scarf around her neck was a nice pop of color to the otherwise starkly contrast of blacks and whites in both her outfit, and her house. 

“Ah, there you are Sweetie,” the woman greeted, her smile was also coated in black lipstick and seemed wider than Rose’s; “Rose was just telling me about your dire straits. Don’t worry a bit, darling, we’ll have you home safe and sound.”

“Thanks Mam,” I replied, genuinely grateful; I tried not to look bashful; but mainly I was trying not to look at Rose, memories of last night still coursing through my limbs. 

Rose looked bored, mostly; but she grinned and winked when she caught me looking at her. 

I stuck my tongue out at her. 

It was ineffective, but it made her giggle. 

“Would you like anything before we go? I would be a poor hostess to send you off hungry,” Rose’s Mom offered. 

“I’m fine, really,” I insisted, already feeling guilty over their generosity, “But thank you!”

“Well, you’ll have to come back for a real dinner sometime,” she replied, waving a hand; “I’m sure Rose would _love_ to have you.” 

My cheeks flushed and Rose shot her mom a pretty hard glare. 

“-Fine, _I’d_ love to have you at least,” the woman chided; her entire personality seemed far more light and jovial than her daughter’s.

They were both fascinating, and my heart raced at the thought of getting to spend more time with Rose. 

“I’d like that, if that’s okay I mean,” I replied, hoping to see a spark of the same emotion on Rose’s face. 

She hid her face behind her hair; I wondered if she was blushing. 

“Wonderful! It’s settled then,” said Rose’s Mom; “We’ll have you over this weekend, make a party out of it. Now, come along then. Might as well get going while my car’s still warm.”

I followed her happily as she led us to the door.

The woods around their house seemed a whole lot happier, under the bright, uplifting sun. 


End file.
